Though mythological thinking, particularly on the level of belief in demons and magic, has but slight connection with later science, it stands in close relation to the beginnings of _art_. This relation appears, among other things, in the fact that the simplest forms of the one are connected with the simplest forms of the other. This connection is twofold. Ideas of magic are, in a certain sense, projected into the products of art; art, on the other hand, being the means whereby mythological thinking finds expression, reacts upon magical ideas and brings about an enhancement of their motives. This is particularly apparent, in the beginnings of art, in the fact that, as viewed by civilized man, primitive peoples have brought but _one_ art to a high degree of perfection, the _art of dancing_. For no other form of artistic expression is early man better endowed. His body is incomparably more supple than that of civilized races. The life of the forest, the climbing of trees, and the capturing of game qualify him for performances that would prove difficult to a modern art-dancer. All who have witnessed the dancing of men of nature have marvelled at their great skill and dexterity, and especially at their wonderful ability in respect to postures, movements, and mimetic expression. Originally, the dance was a means for the attainment of magical ends, as we may conjecture from the fact that even at a very early stage it developed into the cult dance. Nevertheless, from the very beginning it obviously also gave rise to pleasure, and this caused it to be re-enacted in playful form. Thus, even the earliest art ministered not only to external needs but also to the subjective life of pleasure. The direct source of the latter is one's own movements and their accompanying sensations. The dance of the group enhances both the emotion and the ability of the individual. This appears clearly in the dances executed by the inland tribes of Malacca. These peoples do not seem to have any round dances. The individual dancer remains at a fixed spot, though he is able, without leaving his place, to execute marvellous contortions and movements of the limbs. These movements, moreover, combine with those of his companions to form an harmonious whole. They are controlled, however, by still another factor, the attempt to imitate animals. It is true that, on the primitive level proper, the animal does not play so dominant a rôle as in later times. Nevertheless, the imitation of animals in the dance already foreshadows the totemic period. Some individuals are able, while remaining at a fixed spot, to imitate with striking life-likeness the movements of even small animals, and this is regarded as art of the highest order. Yet the animal-mask, which is later commonly used in cult and magic, is here as yet entirely lacking. These very mimic and pantomimic dances, however, unquestionably bear the traces of magic. When the Veddah imitates